


Welcome Gift

by altilis



Series: Kinky Vulcan Liaisons [1]
Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Community: kink_bingo, F/M, Face Slapping, Pre-Canon, Sex Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-24
Updated: 2012-07-24
Packaged: 2017-11-10 16:30:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/468365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/altilis/pseuds/altilis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a year at the Academy, Spock recuperates on Vulcan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Welcome Gift

**Author's Note:**

> This pairing will be forever kinky. Thanks to [](http://sullacat.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**sullacat**](http://sullacat.dreamwidth.org/) and [](http://kinderjedi.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**kinderjedi**](http://kinderjedi.dreamwidth.org/) for the once-over. ♥

He came home to Vulcan that summer at his mother's behest, despite telling her that his feelings for Vulcan and their leaders hadn't changed.

What he didn't tell her (though she probably suspected, as she always did) was that he yearned for non-political Vulcan: the sand, the heat, the limitless canyons, and the dark, sharp corners of the city he had grown up in. His emotional attachment to a fully-furnished house and a stocked kitchen hadn't waned in the nine months he had been away, and his mother knew, if her unrequested grilled cheese sandwich was any indication the night he came home.

An entire week passed before he mustered the energy to leave the house,  and on an unplanned excursion at that. Spock drove through the city with illogical detours here and there, indulging in sentimentality while no one was looking, and just as the sun dipped below the horizon he reached the neighborhoods of the northern suburb, sheltered from the desert by large courtyards and high walls. At the end of a long cul-de-sac sat a house with gates of old, black iron and walls of pink sandstone that were guarded by towering cacti. Briefly, he felt grateful that it was still here, and then apprehensive, but he parked the car on the curb and stepped out anyway.

Spock reached out to the touch the gate and felt the rough surface of the metal, worn and battered by sand and heat, before the gates swung inward to admit him into the courtyard. The walkway led up threw a thorny garden of local plants and ancient statues, some more abstract than the rest, but footsteps up ahead drew his attention away. T'Pring wore a loose, shimmering green dress that stopped above her knees and sandals with a heavy wooden heel, clacking on the tiles as she walked up to him..

She struck him across the face.

The force of it snapped his head to the side and almost altered his balance. As he regained his bearings he could feel the heat on his cheek, broad and hot, and it contrasts with the coldness in T'Pring's eyes when he finally caught her gaze.

"Would you have preferred I called?" he asked.

"Always," she said, turned, and began to walk back into the house. Spock followed her. "However, my parents are away on business in Regar until tomorrow. Yours?"

"Mother has told me to spend some time outside." The house was as immaculate as he expected, with the same low leather sofa in the lounge and the huge, intricate rugs on the walls - yet T'Pring kept the house dark, so only the yellow lights from the courtyard touched the rooms. With everything shrouded in shadow, he had to follow her - up the wide, rigid staircase and down a narrow hallway lined with more rugs and hanging glass ornaments.

Her room, too, remained the same from a year ago: the same wide bed and vanilla sheets, the vaulted ceiling with a hanging double helix, the thick red curtains pulled shut on tall, wide windows, and an array of lamps hung around the room in strategic positions, illuminating the carpeted floor, the desk, and the gnarled houseplant in the corner.

She beckoned him to sit at the side of the bed, and he did. "Did you enjoy San Francisco?" she asked, opening the drawers of her dresser, searching.

"It has many of the things I require for my work," he said, watching her, still feeling the sting on his cheek.

"Then why not remain there?"

"One place cannot have all that I need, T'Pring," Spock said. She straightened up and looked at him, something hidden in her hand.

"Is that so?" T'Pring struck him again with her open hand, but this time the other cheek. For a moment Spock thought he could hear the echo of it, but it might be his distraction - his pause to relish the visceral feel of this private violence. As he straightened back up in his seat, he closed his eyes - and her hand slid to his cheek, cupping his jaw. He leaned towards the cool feel of her palm. "There is nothing for you there?"

"Not as I want it." He opened his eyes and looked up at her. A small warmth had crept into her eyes as she looked down at him, not a hair out of place in her braid for all she had down to ruffle his own appearance.

His lips parted so that he could elaborate, but she placed a thumb against his lips. "I already know your disappointments, Spock - we are never parted." she said, and her hand slid down to the collar of his shirt, unhooking the buttons down his chest. "Lie back, and perhaps you can share other details."

Spock moved back along the bed, until he could lie on his back with his feet upon the mattress. T'Pring followed him, straddling his hips when he stopped, and the folds of her dress climbed high along her thighs. His hands rested there, just under the edge of the fabric so he could feel smooth skin under his fingertips.

Flicking the last few buttons, T'Pring pushed aside the folds of his shirt to expose his bare chest and brought her hand down on a nipple, a shadow of the force and sting from before, but enough to redirect his attention. "I assume you remember these." From her hand she showed him a clothespin made of old, worn wood, the edges carved with mysterious notches.

"You believe I would forget?" He would always remember Spain: the dry heat, thousands of years of architecture, a coast line all to themselves, and, of course, the sharp pain at his nipple when she had tried this for the first time. His back arched up now like it did then, with a quiet gasp filling his lungs.

"Not precisely - your resolve, though, has come into question on a few occasions." She paused for a moment, circling her fingers around the clothespin before her hand moved to his other nipple. Her thumb massaged it gently, warming the skin, and T'Pring waited until he had calmed from the first pinch before she attached the second clothespin.

It bit as hard as before, but he expected it - until she took the top and twisted ever so slightly. Spock's fingers dug into her thighs as he struggled not to cry out, but she didn't move and said instead, "Now, tell me about Starfleet."

**Author's Note:**

> Also at [Dreamwidth.](http://altilis.dreamwidth.org/39916.html)


End file.
